


Occupation

by TelepathJeneral



Category: Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Multi, Other, and very easy to point the finger of blame, it's not easy bearing burdens of a country
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"During the last weeks of World War II, Allied troops occupied the whole of Austria: Soviet Russia Lower Austria, Vienna, Burgenland and large parts of Styria, the USA Upper Austria, the provinces of Salzburg and Tyrol, the French Vorarlberg, Britain parts of Carinthia, Styria and East Tyrol, and Yugoslavia the southern part of Carinthia."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Occupation

It was difficult to walk across the cracked cobblestone; for Roderich, the path was made somewhat easier thanks to the walking stick he grasped in one hand, but he still found it hard to step over and around the rubble. Fortunately, the dust had cleared, and he had managed to replace his spectacles in time enough to see the extent of the damage, but in retrospect, he wished he had waited to replace them.

What he was able to see didn’t encourage him. Crying children could be heard over the industrial hum of the city, and here, far from the capital’s center, most of the buildings still bore the scars of war. Hand tightening around his stick’s carved handle, Roderich tried to stand straight, feeling the sudden, now-familiar pain that had taken up residence in his lower back.

War was hell.

He did his best to keep walking, regretting his detour through this section of the city, and kept his eyes on the ground until he returned to the foreign districts set up for the duration of the occupation. Like most Austrians these days, the people didn’t meet his eyes, and instead turned away to try and preserve whatever privacy they had left. Roderich couldn’t really blame them. He could, however, harbor a bit of resentment for the new lack of privacy few others could understand.

He wasn’t a fool. The Allied troops currently lounging in his city’s bars were the reason for his new walking stick, and the continuing pain, and all of it. As the formerly glorious state of Austria, he bore the worst of his people’s burdens, and in Vienna itself, he could never escape the impressive destruction.

The stairs up to the large wooden door were slightly difficult for him to maneuver, but he managed to let himself inside without too much ado. Muted voices could be heard further inside, and he turned to his right before stepping inside the small conference room. England was the first to notice him, unoccupied near the window, but the attention of the other two occupants forced Roderich to bow his head.

The great and glorious American Republic and the equally impressive Soviet Union had both decided to stop talking to focus on him. The pressure alone was intense. And with the quick reminder of his impoverished situation, Roderich decided that conversation would be the best alternative than this eternal, oppressive silence. Clearing his throat, he offered a nod in greeting, and drew closer to the window with tortuous lethargy.

“Where is Francois, then?” He managed to ask with relative clarity, remembering in time not to use the other nation’s ‘state’ name at a supposedly informal meeting.

“Francois is still too weak to travel. Since he’s not important for this situation, we supposed it would be acceptable to leave him behind.” England-no, Arthur, it’s important to keep them separate-nodded in return, already cradling a small cup of some liquid in his hand. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Of course. I really wasn’t expecting him, anyway.” Roderich felt suddenly exhausted by the exertion of speaking, and tried not to fidget with his walking stick as he thought. _So you consider Francois’s wounds enough for him to stay behind, but insist on dragging me here?_

“I mean, he’s been out of commission for most of the war, so…” Alfred shrugged nonchalantly, still positioned across the conference table from Roderich. Somehow, despite himself, Roderich could spot the slight flinch of remorse as Ivan-the new, reinvented Soviet Union-tried not to strangle the other man for his idiocy. “But you’re doing okay, right?”

“I-“ Roderich shook his head, gesturing vaguely toward the window. “I don’t know why you’re still here.”

“It’s damage control, Austria. Oh, sorry-Roderich. We just want to keep some guys around to keep an eye on things.”

 _What things are left to ‘keep an eye on’?_ Roderich followed Alfred’s lead, moving to sit in one of the conference chairs. “I don’t know why you need so many, though.”

“We’ve let you have your Republic again. You have your Chancellor, and your Vice-Chancellor, and your people are able to mobilize politically again. You should be pleased.” Arthur moved to sit beside Roderich, setting his tea aside. “It’s more than you had before.”

“Do not-“ Roderich turned to study the other man, resisting the urge to lean away. “The issue of my government is not at issue here. What I object to is the continued occupation of my capital.”

“You object?” Ivan now stepped forward, adding to the triumvirate of pressure against Roderich. Roderich hesitated, managing to meet Ivan’s cool gaze, but nodded.

“An occupation that I am paying for. I do not-I don’t want-I don’t mean to misalign your men, they’re excellent soldiers, but they continue to take up resources that I need.”

“We need our people here, Roderich. I mean, you were the enemy, it’s only fair…” Alfred shrugged again, leaning forward onto the table. “Just-Well, look at yourself. You speak German, you act German, you eat German; you, for all intents and purposes, are German. And if we’ve got Ludwig under armed guard, the least we can do here is keep an eye on you.”

“You would compare me to that-“ Roderich quickly closed his mouth before the swearing began in earnest, and he hesitated for a long moment before trying again. “Have you done the same to Poland? For Belarus? For Romania, for the Czechs, for Hungary-Gott, Hungary-“

“Poland’s different.” Alfred broke in. “I mean, his people died, we’re doing our best to-“

“And I escaped unharmed?”

“Belarus is being handled.” Ivan rejoined, his hands still hidden in the arms of his coat. “It will take time.”

“I knew Poland, remember.” Arthur agreed, watching Roderich with a raised eyebrow. “After the Great War, we hadn’t known-“

“You stood by and watched.” Roderich whispered, meeting Arthur’s eyes with a harsh glare. “My chancellor was bullied into an agreement and I had to sit there _alone_ while Hitler walked his men through my streets.”

“As did Poland, and Belarus, and Romania.” Alfred concluded, nodding. “But he didn’t have to bomb you to bits to make his point. You’ve got towns to spare, out there.”

“As if you would give an instant of consideration to who you were bombing!” Roderich stood again, ignoring the pain in his leg. “It was not Hitler that set fire to the refineries, it was not Hitler that fought his way through Vienna, it was not Hitler who dropped twenty-two tons of raw explosives onto my churches and City Hall and Opera House! It was not Hitler that-“

“And that’s why we have to approach this differently.” Arthur spoke, a sudden contrast to Roderich’s impassioned plea. “He didn’t force your hand. And though we recognize the trials of war, we can’t show partiality to you when you were, in fact, on the side of the enemy.”

In defeat, Roderich sat back in his chair, still aware of the silent study of Ivan across the table. “I have had hundreds of years erased in less than a day.”

“And we’re sorry for your loss.” Arthur moved to stand, nodding to Alfred. “But I hope we’ve made our position clear.”

“Get out.”

“Roderich, we have to leave something here, we have our men-“

“I don’t mean your armies, I mean you. Get out.” Roderich stood, using his walking stick as a gavel to make his point. “Leave the men, leave the soldiers who chase after my women and drink the last of my decent beer and trample their goddamn jack-heeled boots over my cracking streets, leave them! Just get out!”

Surprisingly, Alfred did move toward the door, nodding once before leaving the conference room. Arthur seemed about to speak, but kept quiet, doing much the same to have Ivan trail behind. Before the Soviet Union left the room, however, he met Roderich’s eyes once more, and Roderich quailed at the intensity behind them.

“You are not in a position to be bargaining, Austria.”

“I…apologize. I didn’t mean to be insensitive-“

“We will treat you kindly. But if change is to be made, then sacrifices are to be made as well.”

“These are people, Russia, these are living, breathing-“

“You and your bleeding heart sympathies.” Ivan shook his head, glancing away. “Someday, perhaps, you will understand. Everyone will understand. But for now…arrangements can be made. It will still take time.”

Roderich hesitated, but slowly nodded in concession. “Thank you.”

With that, Ivan finally left the room, leaving Roderich alone in the sudden absence of power, real or imagined. Once again succumbing to exhaustion, Roderich sank into his chair, turning to watch the flags flutter outside his window.

It would be a long, long time until the Austrian flag would fly high again.

**Author's Note:**

> For more information on the Occupation of Austria: (http://www.wien-vienna.com/occupation.php)


End file.
